Apr 03 2008
Heavy Breathing, Chapter 8: Every Little Thing He Does Is Magic
Having been in a Bee Gees kind of mood ever since the Sun-Times screamed “Stayin’ Alive” across its front page a few mornings ago in Continue Reading »
Apr 03 2008
Having been in a Bee Gees kind of mood ever since the Sun-Times screamed “Stayin’ Alive” across its front page a few mornings ago in Continue Reading »
Mar 27 2008
God Loves You
That’s what Russell’s latest comment photo says with a big blue cross. It’s right above the “Thanks for the Add” he received from Matt in Peoria Continue Reading »
Mar 20 2008
As he admires the impressive cock of his neighbor, Kirby Cavanaugh — which is now exposed to both him and a sobbing Seth due to an Continue Reading »
Mar 09 2008
“And the song was written from a perspective of hope. And hope, at the end of the day, connects us all, no matter how different we are.” Continue Reading »
Feb 19 2008
“So it’s nothing like elephantitis?” “No, Adelle.”
“That’s good ’cause my Uncle Morey-he once got bit by a mosquito and his yahoos swelled up like melons.”
Feb 14 2008
![]() |
|
A continuing story of love and lust in Chicago, the city of big shoulders and abs of steel. |
“Hope you don’t mind me barging in, but I just wanted to introduce myself. I’m Adelle Frish from right next door,” says the smiling blonde after she releases her new neighbor from her tight embrace.
I’m Seth Robinson,” he replies.
And I’m Roger Hardy.”
Oh, you big silly, I know you-nothing but trouble he is-so you better watch your back with him,” she warns Seth while shaking a bright red fingernail at the other man, who nods his head in agreement and adds:
“And your front.”
This remark sends the woman into brief hysterics as she slaps Roger’s arm: “Stop it, you’re terrible. Oh, I like this lamp.”
Feb 13 2008
![]() |
|
A continuing story of love and lust in Chicago, the city of big shoulders and abs of steel. |
“Who the hell are you?”
That’s how the box of DVDs ends up in the snow on their new front lawn. He drops it when the old lady startles the bejesus out of him with a voice that could wake the dead. She just appears out of nowhere-like some sort of witch. And she does kind of remind him of Endora from Bewitched-except for the black jacket with an embroidered white “SOX” on the front, the hot pink Converse sneakers and the cigarette hanging out of her mouth. Actually it’s her face that conjures up images of Samantha’s marvelous mother-the false eyelashes, the ruby lipstick and the bright red hair styled in such a glamorous way that one can almost overlook the rest of her. Almost.
“I asked you a question, young man.”